


indulge me

by twofoldAxiom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Helmsman Kink, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Nook Eating, Psionic Bondage, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2942810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/twofoldAxiom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, you little twerp, I haven’t got all night.” You growl. He looks up at you with chocolate-brown eyes that are altogether too wide and wet and wrigglerish for what a devious son of a bitch he really is. Your own eyes flash dangerous and plasma-bright before he snaps something around your neck and all the sparks just go dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I literally picked names and kinks out of a hat to get this written.

Your name has been forgotten to time, but you are known as the Psiioniic (and once, the Helmsman). Right now, your wrists are bound to your horns and sweat rolls down your back as Nitram continues to bind your ankles to your thighs with electrical tape, thorough and meticulously gentle. You hate him for that, really- you got into this to feel something more along the lines of hurt.

“Come on, you little twerp, I haven’t got all night.” You growl. He looks up at you with chocolate-brown eyes that are altogether too wide and wet and wrigglerish for what a devious son of a bitch he really is. Your own eyes flash dangerous and plasma-bright before he snaps something around your neck and all the sparks just go dead. All your power is trapped under your skin. You suppose it should tingle, like bees in a jar, but it doesn’t; in fact, there’s a distinct lack of background noise all of a sudden. The air feels like breath on your skin, and the constant tinnitus you’ve always suffered from is just gone.

You recognize the blankness from your slavery, and you feel another flash of pitch for the adorable little shit in front of you. “Where did you get a military-grade blocker?” You ask him.

His smile is almost sweet, and it’s the last thing you see before he covers your eyes with the blindfold (rubber-backed, as if it’s necessary with the blocker around your neck). He takes his sweet time finishing tying you up and it’s only then that he answers, all shy and soft. “Well, Aradia is friends with Feferi, you know, the heiress, and uh, I asked her this favour. That is, to get this blocker, for you.”

You grunt. “Cut the crap, Nitram.” You demand, and just like that, you’re reeling from a sudden slap that somehow only makes your bulge twitch. You moan, because you’re fucked up like that.

Hot palms rub between your shoulders, and hot breath tingles against your ear, making you shiver. “That’s what you wanted, right?” He murmurs. There’s no more mincing like this, his hands are callous-rough and sure as they glide down your back, across your sides, and rub over your exposed grubscars. The touch makes you squirm, but you can’t protect yourself with your hands tied to your head and the blocker around your neck. It’s perfect.

You yelp unbecomingly when his hands return to your back and _shove_ , and you hit the floor with another undignified little noise. He tsks over you, rubbing the pads of your ass in those broad hands of his. “Don’t be a, _wriggler_ , about it, now. We’ve only just, started.”

Even for the bravado in his voice now, he stops in all the wrong places, and it’s just annoying enough to make you growl softly. He smacks your ass and you gasp.

“Did you say something?” He asks, full of mock sweetness that makes you clench your teeth. Again, you growl, and he takes that as an incentive to run his hands over your ass and thighs, squeezing what little flesh there is. You never could hold onto weight, even in this new universe where you aren’t confined to the helm.

“I said get the fuck on with it.” You hiss, because your bulges have been twisting maddeningly around each other since he got you naked and you would really like him to touch them. When he concedes to push a finger into your nook, you gasp. He’s supposed to be a shade warmer than you, but your flesh is overheated, and by contrast his touch feels weirdly cool.

You don’t think too hard about that. You don’t think too hard at all, because _oh_ , he’s rubbing into that spot behind your bulges and right between your shameglobes that drives you crazy. You wiggle your hips eagerly and he chuckles, steadying his hand on your hip- and then smacking you on the ass again, making you yelp. He pushes a second finger into your nook. You mutter, dripping with venom, “You unforgiveable fucking _tease_ , if it weren’t for this dampener-“

“Stop whining, you asked for this.” His voice is hard now, hard as ice, and there’s not a trace of that stutter because he’s honestly pissed and it makes you wet thinking about it, which he’s bound to have noticed because he starts thrusting his fingers inside of you, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. “You wanted me to tie you up, take away your power, and make you beg. You’re, just, fucking terrible at bottoming, right now, so shut up. Or is it that you _can’t_ shut up? Is that it?” He gives a particularly hard thrust, right against your globes, and you honest to God whimper.

Fuck, that’s weird. You didn’t know you got off to being told you’re terrible at things but apparently you do, as much as it also makes you want to prove that you aren’t. But that suits your purposes perfectly, you like the feeling of being pulled two ways at once- how much you want to bite his head off and how much you want to spread your legs wider. The second option wins out. You shift on your knees and press your face to the floor. You lick your lips, panting, flushed.

“Better.” He croons, and smacks you again, before he curls those long, broad fingers into you as deep as they’ll go, before adding a third one. The stretch burns, your nook clenches around the intrusion in a way that makes you hiss and curl your toes and wriggle, as if trying to get away but you’re pushing back instead. Sweat slicks your skin, you lick your lips again, and you can almost hear him smile. “Yeah, that’s, that’s much better.”

He’s panting too, you realize. You imagine his bulge coiling out of his sheathe, slick and huge enough to be blunt at the end, imagine him stroking himself with his other hand (he probably is, he’s let go of your hip, the only point of contact you have now is the three fingers shoved fuck deep inside of you.)

Your nook clenches again, and this time you feel a little fluid squish around his fingers. The noise you make is obscene, half crickety chirr and half deep, throaty moan. He chuckles behind you and finally withdraws his fingers, which makes you hiss until you feel something else entirely. It’s not his bulge, not yet, but it’s slick and hot and you realize it’s his tongue when both hands hang onto your hips and he really goes down on you, really pushes it in and makes you yelp with the alien feeling of it, slightly rough but so good.

“Fuck,” You breathe, pushing back against him, and this time he doesn’t pull away. He spreads you further with his hands and starts fucking you in earnest with his tongue, and all the while all you can say is “Fuck, right there, _there_ deeper, come on I _know_ you can go deeper, _oh **fuck**_ , please-“

You whine when he pulls away and flips you over, and this time you don’t have it in you to spit vitriol at him, you’re oversensitized and needy and your shameglobes are swollen with genetic material, making you tremble. Your hips roll up against empty air and you pant, strung out on the floor and unable to do jack shit about it.

 _Then_ he grabs one of your bulges, his hot-cool hands making you gasp as he strokes and squeezes it slowly from base to tip. Your other bulge makes an effort to wrap around his wrist, but he pins it out of the way with his other hand. That suits you just fine, you hump weakly into his touch even though it’s still not enough, there isn’t enough pressure, it’s almost fucking flush with how gently he’s treating you and he knows that only pisses you off more.

But then he curves the bulge he’s holding downwards. You feel the tip of it at your nook before it plunges in without warning and again, you moan, helpless as you fuck yourself. He snickers, and you cut through your moaning with a weak growl.

“You kinky f _-fuck_ ,” Is all you manage to say, before you feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, and his bulge is wrapping around yours. He moans and grinds down on the split between your bulges, which makes the one buried in your nook spasm, as if confused between which hole it should be in. In the end it chooses to stay in yours as he rolls his hips up and suddenly your bulge is engulfed in the heat of him, and every move pushes you into one or the other. You keen.

His hands are on your shoulders as he starts to ride you, brutal and hard, firm ass slamming down on you and hands sure to leave bruises on your collarbones when he’s done. You pant, you writhe, you try to lean up to bite him but he’s got you pinned and is using you like a toy, and it’s all you want, to be used like that.

You don’t get the chance to ask for a pail, your orgasm just slams into you and makes your whole body lock up before you can. You come into him, filling him, and there’s a sick satisfaction in knowing his skin will be tinted your color for it. He comes not long after, splattering you in thick, brown material all the way up to your mouth. You lick some of it up and try to spit at him.

He rolls off you when the aftershocks are done, and removes the blindfold from your eyes, snaps the collar open. Immediately, the tingle of your psionics returns, humming in your bones, and you sigh. You don’t bother undoing the tape just yet, though; even if your legs are starting to go a little numb, you just want to lie there for a while longer beside him.

It’s a while before you turn your head and nuzzle into the fluffy stripe of hair atop his head. “Thanks.” You say, softly, fondly. You’re bleeding red for him and that’s how it always will be with you, you never were good at staying in one quadrant at a time, with anyone; and by now he’s old enough to understand that that’s okay, or at least you’re going to get him used to that in time if he wants to stay with you.

You hope he does. He kisses you, nipping your lower lip, and you really, really hope he does.


	2. Bonus threesome

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you may have had a little too much fun tormenting your quadrant-smearing significant others. It’s a little hard to deal with sometimes, but over time (how much time has it been?), you’ve gotten used to it, and it’s presented you with a lot of fun opportunities. Opportunities like now for instance, which you plan to take full advantage of.

“Easy,” You murmur as his broad hands grab at your hips. There’s a sharp, crackling noise and the smell of ozone in the air as Psii gruffly pulls Faraun’s arms behind his back with his psionics. The red-blue glow of them remains there as Faraun settles himself on his knees, his expression somewhere between irritated and mildly amused beneath the mussed facepaint.

You’ve met Psii’s kismesis before, of course; a hulking monster of a troll known as either Faraun Makara or The Grand Highblood (which you thought he was bullshitting you about, because that’s like being quadranted to the Handmaid. You took one look at him and decided you were a believer). You somehow made him laugh and survived the encounter, shaken, but alive. Nowadays though, you’re stripped of (most of) your fear of him, because you and Psii can pull shit like this.

“Motherfuckers gonna keep torturin’ a poor old troll like this all cruel like, ain’tcha?” He growls, a lilting sort that reminds you of Gamzee but deeper, ancient, more dangerous. It’s almost comical, his tone, when he’s lived longer than you or Psii ever will combined. He shuffles on his knees, his wild mane of hair fluffing up with static. He licks his lips with a tongue so long you bet he could lick the paint off his nose. “Well best be movin’ on, my wicked pitchloves, ‘fore I get it in my mind that I want to eat you.”

“Uhh…” You say, nervous suddenly. Faraun grunts as Psii tightens his psionic hold and yanks his head back by a horn, kissing him hard and leaving blood and greasepaint on his lips. The sight makes your bulge twitch, especially when Psii licks the blood off and you catch sight of the faintly luminescent studs on his split tongue. The studs are always fun. Faraun groans, and grunts again when Psii smacks his horn.

“It’ll be fine, Tavros.” Psii says, soft as you’ve ever heard him, before he saunters up to you and tilts your head up by one of your horns. He kisses you all gentle, then more intensely, tasting faintly of batteries and Faraun’s paint. You hear Faraun make a needy sort of noise and feel Psii smirk against your mouth before he nips you, his hand sliding lower on your horn to squeeze the base, making you moan. His fingers buzz with static. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Faraun growls, and Psii pulls away to laugh and snipe something in Old Alternian to him, to which he responds with the same hiss-and-purr of consonants. Psii pulls you close against his chest and runs his fingers through your hair. You take the initiative to squeeze his ass, making him yelp. You grin.

“So, we were going to, you know, get naked?” You chime in, and the hunger in Faraun’s gaze makes your skin prickle in anticipation. Faraun looks at Psii and something you’re not quite familiar with passes between them, definitely pitch but subtly tender, before Psii lets you go, only to kneel in front of you and start tearing into your shirt. You sputter. “Hey!”

“Faster this way, love.” He grins, and winks, and squeezes the bit of wriggler fat that clings to your hips no matter the fact that you’ve already gone through your adult moult. “Looks better too.”

And then he bites you, makes you yelp before sucking on the bite and making you moan again. You’re tempted to just let him do whatever he wants, but after all that time of letting people do that to you, you’re more inclined to act. You guide him off your skin by squeezing his horn and push your foot against his squirming bulges, and he moans in turn. His eyes are already glazed. He growls, sparks popping between his two smaller horns, dangerously close to your hand.

“No.” You say. “Remember, you don’t get to push me around, unless I say you can. Remember?” He does, even if he’d forgotten for the moment, and he goes limp under your hands, tilts his face up into your palms and licks your fingers. You shiver when the studs pass over your skin, buzzing with latent psionic energy.

Faraun makes another growl and you glare at him. “We had, an agreement.” You clip, and he bows his head, long, deadly horns aimed at you, but he can’t hurt you with Psii in the room. Tendrils of red and blue snake around Faraun’s neck and pull his head back again, choking him. You pet Psii’s horn at the base and make him purr.

You lick your lips. “You can take my pants off now.” Hastily you add. “And, I mean take them off, not tear them off, because pants are expensive.”

Psii rolls his eyes but licks your hand again, sucking one of your fingers into his mouth while his fingers work to undo your jeans. His black gloves are smooth on your thighs, making you shiver (your legs always seem to be so much more sensitive than the rest of you, especially along your inner thighs), and he stops sucking on your hand to nuzzle your bulge through your underwear. The sight makes your bloodpusher flutter, especially when you feel his tongue on the underside, through the cloth.

You gulp, and look at Faraun. His eyes have gone dilated too, but he still looks kind of pissed. You suppose he’s waited long enough however, and give Psii’s horn another squeeze. “Let him breathe a little easier, Psii.” You say, and while he pouts, you see the red and blue flicker, before dying out entirely. Judging by the way Faraun still has his chest out though, Psii hasn’t let go of his arms. But that’s just fine.

You step out of your jeans and let Psii slide your underwear off. You’d tell him to get naked too, but with his kismesis in the room, it’s not something you can push; it’s something he has to do on his own, still iffy about his scars, his ports, even if he’s let you kiss and love every single one of them. The suit he wears, the slight distance between him and the world that it provides, you can leave him that. He can still feel you through the thin material, somewhat, when you cup his chin and stroke your fingers across his latex-clad throat. He’s purring.

You step away from him and finally sidle up to Faraun, and notice the very tip of his bulge has slithered out of his sheathe from watching you with Psii. You try to smirk, you do, but you were never very good at it; it comes off almost gentle, before you kneel in front of Faraun and run your fingers across his hips. You can feel Psii watching you from behind as you lean in and very carefully run your tongue across Faraun’s cracked lips.

He tries to bite you, and you pull away just fast enough that he can’t before Psii’s collar crackles to life around his throat. “Vile little bulgetease,” He huffs, struggling when your hot fingers close around the tip of his bulge. “Just wanted to be havin’ a taste of ye.”

“You can, soon.” And you make that a promise to yourself, as you start stroking his bulge. More of it uncoils from him, slick and ridged and twisting around your wrist, strong enough to tug your arm towards him. It makes you shiver, how cool it is, how _large_ it is, nearly the length and thickness of your forearm. The spaded tip tickles your wrist and you plant a kiss on it that makes him groan. You lick, a hot flicker of tongue, and then start slurping down its length.

He’s shaking when you reach the root, when you meet his nook. “Motherfuck,” He breathes, when your tongue laps at the dripping folds. Your horns are in the way, you can’t put your head between his legs properly like you want to, so you nuzzle the base of his bulge and suck your way to the tip again. Your thumbs massage where his thighs meet his groin, before one hand slips down and the spit-slicked tips of your fingers brush along the seam of him. He tilts his hips up against the touch, and you shy away just enough that only the tips dip into his slick folds.

Behind you, you can hear Psii unzipping, stroking his bulges with slick little noises of rubber on skin, and you smile mischievously and wiggle your hips for him, hear the sharp intake of his breath. Faraun tenses when you suck on the ridges of his bulge, croons Old Alternian like curses and prayers, and then _moans,_ throaty and deep, when you take the tip into your mouth.

You feel gloved hands on your hips, stroking, soothing, over the base of your spine and the pads of your ass as you take more of Faraun into your mouth. You can’t get more than a third of him down your throat, he’s too big and tapers too large by that point for you to do it safely with your weirdly sharp teeth, but you don’t think he minds; the hands on your hips have left and you can hear the wet, rough sounds of Faraun and Psii making out over your head. Faraun clenches around your fingers when you finally push them in, murmuring something into Psii’s lips. You hear a light slap and a growl.

You lift your head when Psii’s fingers close lightly around your throat, pulling you up and against his chest. You can hear the troll Tesla coil buzz of his psionics between his horns, and you reach up to pinch his ear until it stops. “Hey,” You let go of his ear, soothing the sore skin. “Hey. Play nice, for me.”

“Fine.” He says, petulantly. But he pulls you into his lap and rubs his palm down your belly in that way he knows makes you want to arch into his touch. When he reaches your bulge, he starts to stroke, and you notice thin smears of yellow on the black of his gloves. “But spread your legs. I want him to apologize for what he said.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that. “What did he say?”

“He said he wanted to eat you.” He translates, and then smirks. “I don’t think he deserves the right, but I know what he can do with that tongue. You’ll like it.”

That explains the slap. You’d be lying if you said the thought of that tongue doing things to your nook and bulge didn’t excite you, so you do spread your legs, wrapping your arms around Psii’s neck as you do so, baring yourself to Faraun’s gaze. His eyes rake down your skin like a starving animal, and he licks his lips before bowing his head and covering your thighs in a cascade of wild hair. It should be impossible, you think, but already you can feel his tongue tracing along your belly. Lower, lower, then it meets your bulge, curling around the blunt end in a way that makes you twitch your hips up, trying to get more into his mouth. But he bypasses it not a moment later while Psii spreads your thighs wider, and you realize what he’s about to do as that long tongue swipes across the entrance of your nook.

“Oh,” You say, because you can’t say anything else, then “ _Ohh,”_ you moan, because that long, cool tongue is squirming into your nook. It’s not like a bulge, it’s rougher and flatter, but it curls the right way against your shameglobes and _oh,_ there, that’s good, especially when he tilts his head and his mouth is pressed against you in full. Psii is stroking your hair again, kissing the base of one of your horns in a way that would tickle if you weren’t so distracted by Faraun basically _tonguefucking_ you.

You make a high, embarrassing noise when Psii peels your arms off his shoulders and retreats from your back, but you see why immediately when he whispers something in Faraun’s ear and the psionic bonds keeping his arms in place are gone. You feel him grin against you before pulling away- there’s a streak of your prematerial running down his chin, and that wickedly long tongue laps it up like a stripe of candy- before his massive hands pick you up and he cradles you against him, your back to his broad chest.

You watch Psii strip while Faraun settles you between his legs, his bulge wrapping around yours. First come off the gloves, peeled off with his teeth. Then he unzips and toes off his boots, then pulls down his suit, peeling it down his body by inches. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him bending over to peel the skintight material off his legs- had they always been that long?- before he kicks it away and strides towards the two of you, naked, scarred, metal rings gleaming in his skin.

He kisses Faraun over your head again, growling softly, his hands possessive and warm on your shoulders. You lose track of them doing that when the tip of Faraun’s bulge starts circling the entrance of your nook, and for one panicked moment you’re afraid he’s going to shove the whole thing in. It looks like he has more fine control than that however, because he feeds it in slowly, carefully, in such a way that you feel every ridge along your sweet spots when he pushes in. You grind down on him until you can’t take any more, until you’re stuffed so full that it aches.

Psii grinds on your bulge, not putting it in just yet, just teasing you while Faraun’s bulge twists inside of you, presses so far into you that you’re a little afraid of where it must all be, but then Psii finally lowers himself on you and that’s it, you can’t think of anything else but the hot body pressed to your front and the cooler one pressed to your back and all the sensation between your legs.

You bite his shoulder and he moans, gripping the back of your head, holding you in place. You can hear him kissing Faraun next to your horn, sloppy, loud, interspersed with more cursing and pleading in their old tongues, smatterings of “so good,” and “motherfuck” all you can really make out. Your hands go on Psii’s hips and squeeze, making him whimper. “Come on, move,” You plead with him, and for once the contrary Psiioniic does exactly as you ask.

He bounces in your lap and gyrates his hips, the movement forcing you to grind on Faraun’s bulge. Your eyes cross slightly from the pressure, from the pleasure, the sound of breath and growling and heartbeats drowning out your senses, the smell of sweat and sex, the taste of salt and skin, heat and cold inundating you from either side.

You come first, filling Psii with a gasp and a moan from both of you. Faraun chuckles and gets smacked in the temple for it, and you growl at Psii, honestly growl, before the growl is drowned in a whimper because he just _doesn’t let up,_ rides your bulge hard even though you’re sore with it until you come again, weakly, with him. You’re overstimulated and dizzy but Faraun’s bulge is still in you, still coiling and you want him to get off too.

“Get off me.” You tell Psii, and he complies, limply sliding off of you. You grab him by the horn as you get up, sore and jelly-legged, and push his face into Faraun’s crotch. “Make it count.” You command him.

He looks balefully up at Faraun more than you, but he can do this, you’ve seen him do this, it makes your sore bulge twinge in its sheathe to know he can do this. He takes Faraun like a champion, closes his eyes and swallows him in bursts, inches, until he’s down to the root, his jaw stretched wide like a snake. You smack his ass every time he bobs on Faraun’s bulge, making him moan and writhe until his face is flushed all over again, flushed as dark as his ass, and his bulges are squirming against each other. He comes a second time, when Faraun comes down his throat, and there’s so much that it bloats his belly, just a little.

You’re all exhausted by the end of it. He lifts his head from Faraun’s crotch and gurgles weakly, and Faraun gathers his face in his hands and kisses him, tongue and teeth and lips. You get in on that by wrapping your arms around Psii and snuggling in between his shoulderblades, against the warm metal in his spine, while Faraun wraps his arms around both of you.

“Flush?” You ask. Psii shakes his head in denial, but Faraun laughs, rumbling and deep. You don’t know, but you like it this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to FindingZ and Kenny, because apparently this is a good time to write threesome sequels for me.


End file.
